Memory of the Sun
by NerdyChicksHaveMoreFun
Summary: As Dmitri's camp in Seattle falls to Vanessa and the resistance, one of his beneficiaries arrives at a secluded bunker in the hopes of surviving the coming storm. She is surprised to find Dmitri there and, more shockingly, wounded, but takes the opportunity to learn of the new situation. The pair reminisces about better days, and plan those ahead. (Set after S2E1)


**A/N: Hey guys! I got a bit of inspiration from the season 2 premiere and decided to write a quick one-shot. It's basically an outline of the direction I hope for the season to go in, combined with a random OC idea. I'm not sure yet how I feel about Dmitri- I mean, he's the kinda-tropey, well-dressed, accented vampire villain that's pretty common in Syfy/supernatural shows, but then again, those are the characters I usually find interesting. Vanessa, Muhammed (and Sam) I love to death, so there's a mention of them at the end.**

 **Title based on the poem by Anna Akhmatova.**

* * *

 **Memory of the Sun**

 _At least they keep this place stocked_ , Fiona thought bitterly as she pillaged the alcohol cabinet. She still wasn't entirely sure if vampires could get drunk; on the rare occasions when they indulged her curiosity, the Czar and Princess both drank her under the table in lieu of an answer. Logically, she knew that the out-of-the-way placement of the alcohol cabinet, combined with the limited variety, most likely meant that it was maintained for the use of guests, but the interest was there none the less.

Her favored brand of Scotch was near the front, and when a quick glance around showed no glasses in sight, Fiona took the whole bottle. _I think they can spare me one bottle. How in the_ bloody hell _they went and messed this up_ \- she shook her head to clear its thoughts; Dmitri's abodes were not places to lose one's temper. A sip of whiskey would calm her, and so she set off in the direction of the sitting room. Previous experience knew of comfortable couches and, more importantly, a set of crystal glasses atop an oaken side-table. The probability that they had ever held anything that she would think of as a 'refreshing' beverage, much less an alcoholic one, was abysmally low, but she was past caring.

Fiona padded down the hallway, bottle in hand, so set on her new self-imposed mission that she was only yards from the sitting room door when she heard voices from within. She froze in place, straining her hearing. A pained grunt, soft murmuring, a deeper voice replying something inaudible... One hand went to the red pendant of her necklace, the other sliding up the bottle to grip the neck of the Scotch like a club's handle. _If its some little Resistance shits, they picked the wrong bloody day._

The door was cracked and, if she remembered correctly, wouldn't squeak until three-fourths open; if the intruders were human, she stood a reasonable chance of taking them by surprise. Fiona steadied her breathing even as her heart pumped adrenaline and pent-up anger through her veins, easing forward to nudge the door open and peer inside. She sighed dramatically at what she saw, and shouldered her way into the room.

"I almost white-lighted you two, you know," Fiona said to Dmitri and Anastasia, setting her bottle on the nearest available surface and strolling forward. Dmitri was seated on a couch, his back to her, and when only his sister acknowledged her presence- by planting herself firmly between them- something unpleasant ran up the human's spine.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Anastasia snarled, her tone one that would have inspired respect if Fiona had been paying more attention. Instead, she was already rounding the couch, freezing in place when she finally had a good look at Dmitri.

" _Bloody_ _hell_ , Czar, what happened to you?" His usually-dark suit was covered in blood, and from the haziness of his eyes and pain on his face, a good amount of it had to be his own. To call Fiona unnerved by the sight would have been an understatement; she could count on one half of one hand the number of times she'd seen the vampire actually _wounded,_ and it rattled her more to see it now, in such uncertain times.

"I told you of the girl, yes?" Was the wry reply, accompanied by a grimace; the labored nature of his breathing told her that it must hurt to talk.

" _Fiona_." Anastasia snapped, and the human finally looked up at her. "My brother needs _rest_ , not company. _I_ will take care of him."

"Yeah? Is that why he looks ready to pass out?" A dangerous anger flashes across the vampire's face, and before she could move to carry out the murderous intent of her expression, Fiona added, "My apologies, Anastasia. It's been a long day." Dmitri made a sound that might have resembled a chuckle on a better day, and Fiona nodded to him. "How long since he's eaten?"

Not a drop of tension had left the room at the apology, though the rage on the female vampire's face retreated to burn just as brightly behind her eyes. _She's going to try to kill me one of these days,_ Fiona thought, almost unconcerned; the idea was nothing new.

"Recently." Came the eventual, terse reply. Fiona was already rolling up her sleeves, undeterred by the answer. A myriad of Celtic symbols began on her left palm and wove their way in black ink up her forearm, though the right arm was bare until the elbow.

"Well, more can't hurt. Witch's blood has a bit of a kick to it." _And the sooner he recovers, the safer I'll be._ As an afterthought, she glanced to Anastasia and added, "I put a few pre-drawn packs in the fridge for you two. I'm guessing every drop of blood in this place is going to your brother, so you should take one while you can. Oh, and one of us should do a sweep of the compound, if you two didn't know I was here."

"I will not-"

"Anastasia..." Dmitri interrupted, quiet and hoarse, "Go, replenish your strength. We will need it."

The woman glared at Fiona over her brother's head, but said in the sweetest of voices, "As you wish, brother."

Fiona shook her head as the vampiress stalked from the room, drawing a small dagger from within her coat. The tip was already pressed to her index finger when an idea struck her. _Well, waste not_ , _want not._

"Seeing as you're already bleeding like a stuck pig-" She began unceremoniously, and the Russian's eyes glittered with agitation, "-mind if I just use yours?"

Dmitri looked at her for a long moment- _Christ, he looks tired_ \- and flicked a hand as if to say 'Do what you want'. Fiona returned her knife to her jacket and sat on the couch next to him, only to hop immediately back up. The Czar shot her a questioning look.

"If you get a drink, I do too." She explained as she retrieved her bottle and one of the crystal glasses, filling it halfway. She set her drink on the in-table next to the couch and settled down cross-legged next to Dmitri. "This might hurt a bit," Fiona warned. His next heavy breath might have been a resigned sigh, so she leaned forward and pressed two fingers against his chest; she applied only as much pressure as she needed to, but her compatriot still winced. "Sorry, mate."

She sat back and chanted in her native Gaelic, pressing a blood-soaked finger to the center of a tattoo on her left wrist, and energy crackled to life under her skin; the black symbol burning with a heat that was caught somewhere between painful and pleasant. Fiona glanced at her watch and noted the time.

"You've got ten minutes." She told her companion, extending her right arm to him.

It had been a while since she'd indulged the Biter in feeding directly from the source, but she distinctly remembered him being a bit more considerate in the past. "Ow! Bloody hell, Czar, I need the ligaments next to that vein. I'm serious, Dmitri, ease up. Fucking blood-suckers... Ow! Don't be so touchy, I was joking."

When the vampire had settled and was being as gentle as he was likely to get, Fiona retrieved her glass with her free hand, sipping on it intermittently.

"I didn't come here to be a blood bag, you know." She grumbled. "You're gonna have to tell me what _exactly_ has been going on, because I've heard some pretty _interesting_ things. You'd think the Resistance overrunning your camp would be the worst of it, but that's just the most well-known. Julius is out looking for you, and mate, he is _pissed_. Something about you having his mother killed. Then there's the van Helsing girl. I'm guessing she got away? Well, I'm sure she'll be looking for the chance to put you down, too." Fiona took a deep drink from her glass and added light-heartedly, "When did hanging around with you get so bloody dangerous?"

Dmitri made an agitated sound in the back of his throat. Anyone with half a brain would fear that particular monster's agitation, but Fiona snorted a laugh. "Sorry, mate, but if you're gonna bleed me dry you have to listen to my complaints." She took another sip of her drink and glanced at her watch. "Remember the good old days? 1815 to '16, now _that_ was a fun year. Enough volcanic ash in the air that you guys could get out in the daytime to hunt if you bundled up, and enough desperate souls around for my businesses to pick up. And there were some _great_ parties that year."

Fiona glanced at her watch again and set her glass aside. "Sixty-second countdown, Czar." She said, using her free hand to draw a piece of fabric from her pocket. She always kept a clean rag on her in case a spell required more blood than a pricked finger, though it would likely be a woefully inadequate bandage for the wound on her wrist. "Time," Fiona called, drawing her arm free of Dmitri's grip, watching him like a hawk all the while. His injuries would intensify his hunger, and if he intended to keep feeding, she might have to take measures to remind him of her boundaries.

* * *

Fiona's arm was relinquished without objection, and the vampire leaned back, sighing deeply and staring half-dazed at the ceiling. Pain still shot through his body and intensified at the slightest of movements, still sapped the strength from his bones and clouded his mind, but the blood now running through his veins made those sensations seem distant. It may not have tasted as sweet as Anastaisa's, but Fiona was right; it always brought a certain vigor with it.

"We were surprised to find you here, Fiona... but I cannot say I am displeased." His voice was still quiet and thick, but stronger than it had been.

"You never are after you've had a hit. Give it a minute, and I'm sure I'll annoy you."

The woman pressed a rag to the injury on her wrist, chanting calmly. Dmitri watched with lazy interest as blood and a separate, clear liquid soaked into the cloth with supernatural speed, and the witch folded the fabric to repeat the process twice more, withdrawing any foreign organic material- including those with vampiric properties- from her bloodstream. _"I knew of women who used it as a contraceptive,"_ she'd explained the first time he had fed directly from her, _"But this is basically the same principle, so it should keep me human."_

"My offer still stands, my friend," Dmitri said on impulse, and Fiona glanced up.

"You're talkative all of a sudden." The Celt said with a small, knowing smile, and he returned it bitterly; both knew that it still sent a stab of pain through his chest. "And I still say that it'll be a _yes_ when I'm about to die. Appreciate the sentiment, though." The woman discarded the blood-soaked rag and tore off a length of her right sleeve, using teeth and one hand to tie it tightly around the wound on her arm.

The sheer speed of the action spoke to the number of times he had seen her do it, and he mused on how the experience of centuries had changed her outward appearance so little. She had said once that old witches are closer to a vampire than human, and he supposed that the statement had some merit to it; no streaks of grey ran through her dark auburn hair, the only wrinkles to show on her face were crow's feet, and her small frame remained athletically muscled and lithe. Her own need for blood to perform spells had increased in the last decade, so much so that she used in a year what would have lasted three when they first met- a need not incomparable to those of his own species.

"You could do so much _more_ as one of us." he persisted.

"Really, Dmitri? 'Cause neither of us knows if I would keep my powers."

"But if you did? If I could... _guarantee_ that?" They had had this conversation many times before, and always he offered this supposed guarantee. It did not matter that he had no way of _actually_ promising that; he was only waiting for the day her answer changed, so he could begin the research knowing that it would not ultimately be wasted.

Fiona sighed and sipped her drink. "Look, Czar. With my magic, I barely need to eat, barely need to sleep, barely do _anything_ a human does. So what would advantage would turning give me? I couldn't go out in the daylight, and you'd have to find a new snack. That's about it."

"There will always be another 'snack', Fiona, but I have only one witch."

"And you might not have _any_ if I come to the dark side." She took a deep gulp of Scotch and ran her uninjured hand through her hair. "Speaking of the dark side, what's your plan now? Kill Julius, reorganize your army, go after the girl?"

"Which would you advise?" He queried- not because he would actually listen, they both knew, but because he was curious as to what she would say. The witch swirled the liquid around her glass thoughtfully.

"If I were you, mate, I would stay away from van Helsing until you _know_ you can kill her. The last time didn't seem to go to well."

Rage sparked in his chest at the memory. "I was caught by surprise." He snarled, anger burning in his tone, and Fiona raised an eyebrow. "I did not anticipate- it does not matter. I will be ready the next time."

"I could still help you with that, you know. A little boost might be all you need."

"Ah, but your prices are still too high."

"When it comes to you, my prices are a bloody _bargain_ , trust me." She growled, face darkening immediately. "I have to charge my other customers more just to cover the things I do for you."

This was another conversation they had had before. Once, in leaner times, this same argument was the closest he had ever come to killing her, and she him. Neither had actually tried, of course; two hundred years of a mutually beneficial relationship had caused them to place a certain amount of value on each other's lives. That was not to say that either would actually sacrifice anything of worth for the other, or that they would even remain friendly, but as of yet, it had kept them from each other's throats.

In theory, she should be easy to kill, he knew; she is still human, still needs oxygen and an intact spinal column and a certain amount of blood in her veins, but what makes her useful is also what makes her dangerous. He has seen what remains after she "white-lights" a person, has seen the burns and blinded eyes on humans, and the charred husks that had once been others of his species. _"A blast of direct sunlight is real useful when you hang around night-walkers,"_ she'd once said, both in teasing and warning.

Dmitri was fairly certain that she could not kill him. Physically, she might be capable of coming close, but her human heart remained her weakness. How many times had she drank too much, and confessed that her life would be 'ungodly boring' without the work she did for him? How many times had her her loyalty been tested beyond what a simple business partner's would endure? The fact that she offered her blood freely testified to the human habit of growing attached to things, no matter how much she had tried to limit it. If Dmitri killed her, he might feel annoyance or inconvenience, but the blessing of his state of life was how greatly it dulled the human weakness of emotion; if she were to kill him, however, she might actually feel _grief_.

This weakness did work to her advantage in some ways, he mused. It made her less of a threat to him, and that in turn increased her chances of survival.

"So which will you deal with next, Julius or your army?" Fiona asked. She glanced at her near-empty glass and rose, presumably to fill it- only to sway on her feet, threatening to topple over. Dmitri braced himself to catch her if she actually did fall; he would be vastly disappointed if he lost such a powerful ally because she cracked her head open on a coffee table.

"Don't you bloody move." She ordered, steadying herself with a hand on the couch arm. "I didn't let you drain me dry just to reinjure yourself with dramatics. It's been a while since I was a donor, is all." She took a deep breath, glancing down to the wound on her wrist and grimacing.

Dmitri cocked an eyebrow and relaxed back. Perhaps he had been over-zealous in his feeding, but if she had the energy to snap at him, it had obviously caused no lasting damage.

"Where is your pet? We have not seen him about."

"Devon? Oh, he's out and about. I have him tracking Julius's movements at the minute."

" _Julius_." He snarled the name bitterly. "I should have killed him long ago, but I was waiting for him to become more than a disappointment."

"That worked out well, didn't it?" Fiona replied bitterly as she poured another drink. "If my raven gets hurt spying for you, by the way, I'm going to be pissed."

Dmitri spread his hands in an 'I'm innocent' manner. "I did not ask you to spy for me."

"Oh, please, don't act like you weren't planning on it. You know, when you could walk straight again." The witch took a deep drink from her glass. "How the hell did this happen? At the beginning of the week I was organizing caravans, putting together recommendations for replacements Elites, enjoying a new lover... Now my most powerful ally is hiding out _here_ with a gaping hole in his chest and an upstart Biter hunting him down."

The remainder of such a spectacular turn of events in his life only rekindled the anger in Dmitri's chest. "You are free to leave if you do not like the situation," he growled, low and dangerous. Fiona looked at him for a long moment, evaluating the extent of his rage.

"I'm not complaining, mate. Just venting." She took another quick sip of Scotch, refilled her glass, and settled on the couch next to him once again. "Besides, you're pretty well stuck with me now."

"Anastasia warned me about feeding the strays." Came the wry response.

Fiona laughed. "So he _does_ have a sense of humor! And here I thought you were gonna let a little thing like near-fatal injuries turn you sullen." She took yet another drink, which did not escape him; if she was already more than two glasses in, she was more annoyed than he originally thought. "So, if you're not going to put Julius down yet, you must be going after van Helsing."

"The girl is what is _important_." He maintained, almost fervently. "She is the key to our survival- or our extinction. If she cannot be captured, she must be killed. Julius... he is no real threat. I will deal with him in time."

The Celt studied him for a long moment. "I can kill him, if you want." She finally said, but Dmitri waved the idea away.

"I appreciate the offer, my friend, but I will deal with him _personally_."

"Make an example out of him, you mean." Fiona grinned at the idea. "I can't wait to see what you do to this one. Something fittingly dramatic, I hope."

Dmitri indulged her with a rare, genuine smile of his own. "I will try not to disappoint."

"Good. So, you deal with the girl first, then have some fun with Julius, and you army rallies behind your success. Sounds like a bloody plan to me." They sat in comfortable silence for several seconds, and at the end of it Fiona drained her glass and rose. "I'll take my leave, then."

"Leave? Fiona, there is enough room here for all of us."

"As much as I hate to say it, the Princess is right. Me being here is a distraction, and you need to be back on your feet as soon as possible. Besides, you've got Anastasia to hold your hand and pat your head. Me, I just can't _stand_ to sit still in dangerous times." The witch unrolled her sleeves, tugging them down to cover the wound on her wrist. "Devon will drop off another pack of blood in a few days. Make sure your sister doesn't snap my familiar's neck, yeah?"

"And what do you intend to do in that time?"

The witch shrugged. "I have people who can maintain my business for a few days, so I think I'll do some field work. See if Devon can't find your van Helsing girl, and see if I can't slow Julius down and buy you some time."

"You have always been a valuable asset, my friend. Your efforts will be rewarded."

"Oh, I'm counting on it, Czar," Fiona replied with a wicked grin. "I'll check in after two weeks or when I hear something, whichever comes first."

"Happy hunting," Dmitri called sweetly, matching her predatory smile.

* * *

 _Lower, Devon,_ Fiona commanded, and the raven dipped his body closer to the earth, slowly circling the figure traveling below.

In the beginning, she had caught a glimpse of a group that may have been van Helsing's; an athletically-built brown-haired woman, a boy nearing adulthood, and a young girl, all near Dmitri's fallen camp but traveling away from it. It could likely have been just a group of normal humans fleeing the chaos, but she had still followed them for as long as she could. If they had a destination in mind, she couldn't discern it in the time she'd had sight of them. The Czar's scattered army was proving to be an obstacle- she'd had to white-light a surprising number of vampires as she traveled- and she eventually got distracted enough by this to have lost track of the group.

A few days after that trail had run dry, she had come across this particular Biter. He was recently turned, and still inexperienced; as such, it was easy enough to follow him, and something in the back of her mind told her that it was worth the time. Though his feeding was still sloppy, he was learning quickly, and seemed to possess a surprising amount of focus. _He's looking for something,_ Fiona thought, not for the first time, as she observed his relatively linear and undistracted path. She observed him for a while longer before more pressing matters called her attention elsewhere.

 _Rest and eat_ , Fiona advised her familiar, and withdrew to her own body. She opened her eyes and leaned forward, the tree branch underneath her swaying with her shifting weight, and caught sight of several figures moving in the valley below.

 _There you are, Julius._

She rose and went to work.


End file.
